The Black Swan

[LurkingShadow]

A late night in the state building of Guldorand, one lone candle flickers alone against the darkness of the night. An Elven woman strokes her forehead, the other hand upon a pen. She looks upon a parchment in front of her. Unfocused, her mind trailed away.

Her months upon Arelith had been intense, filled with a lot of emotions, things had been built and toppled as quickly as they had become something solid. It made the woman ponder if her blood was cursed. She was obsessive of what she liked, overzealous for those she loved. She pushed; they stepped back. If she stepped back, they pushed. Perhaps she was a parasite, sucking their energy out. Driving them to distance themselves. Regret came to her. A lot of regret. A deep sigh as she put down the pen and looked around the dark room. She covered the candle with her now free hand, sliding her other hand into the shadows. There was comfort in the shadows. Away from eyes, away from people. She had seen it used to its fullest potential. Hiding away from people. Stepping into the light, stepping into the darkness. Not fully in either of the two. Like a twilight.

Like a twilight? Star of Twilight? Like the Twilight Star. The symbol of her father. The star is half engulfed in darkness, where it glows bright. The upper side is engulfed in light, where it’s black as night.

That thought changed quickly, she dropped her hand blocking the candle, giggling to herself. The Black Swan! The Bastard Swan! The Black Swan. The chuckles stopped, she pondered that thought. Turning to look inside the bedroom. There laid her equipment on the bed. The new leathers from her dearest friends, the blades from her superiors, trinkets from her blood relatives. She strokes her chin, deep in contemplation.

It is time to rebuild, to become stronger, to endure. No more weakness!

The Elf muttered to herself. It was time to be strong, become better, reach as far as she could. To protect those, she loved what she loved. Family, both blood and adopted, those that had given her a chance in Guldorand and Guldorand itself. She might fail people; she might fail herself. But her loyalty to those she cared for would never falter even when they lose faith in her. Her blades shall sing when the need comes. She blew out the candle, engulfing the chamber in darkness. It was time turn inwards, to focus once more on meditation.

She could finally step into the shadows again.

OOC Note: I welcome grammatical pointers, lore pointers and just average comments in PMs.

[LurkingShadow]

Another late night in the office. The Sun Elf sat by the fire pit. A feather pen in her hand, glancing over some documents. She put them aside and looked to the fire. A deep ponder upon her mind. Things escalate and de-escalate. They change and find new shapes. Her time upon the island had shown her that her talents needed to adjust to the times and the needs of the island. With a good teacher, she was adjusting.

But she wondered at what cost? Things did not come for free as she had heard the other day. She had been given a most prestigious offer that she felt she had to decline. Seeking honour, titles and glory hogging was not her way. To her, her strongest asset was loyalty even if it came with overburdening care and zeal to defend those she loved. This was also the reason for her to decline. She would not be able to do this properly. It did hurt, but she felt they deserved the truth.

There were certain individuals she would destroy the world for if she could. Traverse the Abyss and Hell to save. Murder and maim to keep safe. She would curse the Planes to keep these few individuals from harm and what else would come their way. She felt, she knew what would be good or bad for them. But she knew, it did not work that way.

Ambitions are nothing without people to share it with.

She had never aimed to control others, but she wanted to protect them. Even from themselves if needed. She had so often been alone, so often lost others. Perhaps to foes or foolish choices, but many also by her pushing them away, by choice or by overburdening zeal.

In her mind she dreamed up scenarios! If she was an arch mage, she would create a pocket plane. An island utopia! A dream world meant only for those she cared for. Away from the dangers, from the evil and twisted powers. She would convince them….or kidnap them away. To give them whatever they needed, whenever they needed it. To protect them. From others and themselves. But it was suffocating, she would hurt them. Perhaps they would even hate her if she did this?

A deep sigh and shake of her head.

Even if she would spend the last centuries studying the arcane. She knew this dream was probably not something she could achieve or even make possible in the way she had envisioned it. It was insane, impossible and a prison pocket plane for the people she loved.

It was unachievable. So she just had to do what she did, a shadow that did not hesitate to kill if needed. She did enjoy stabbing people. Foes, fools, and enemies. Puncturing their organs. Hearing their agonizing screams. Bringing pain to those who brought pain to the innocent, helpless and those she held in high regard, those she loved and saw as more than acquaintances. In whatever way this was. They will suffer for their deeds, thoughts, and actions. No matter what. Evil deserved no compassion.

But all this was her bitter thoughts. A lot of good things had happened of late. But it also made her worry more, stress more. Certainly, a paradox of strange shape. A fear of losing what she had. Her ever-watchful eye lurking on what she had. The Elf knew although, things would not flee from her, escape her, or pick other better “friends” than her. So why did she worry? Paranoia, there was a sickly paranoia to the Elf. One twirled and twisted into a messy paranoia with resilient loyalty to those she held upon a pedestal of gold and shaped diamonds.

The loyalty would never go away. That was her strongest asset in her mind. A loyalty so strong she did not accept titles and glory given because of her fierce loyalty, because of mentioned loyalty. Her loyalty came for free, but it came with an overburdening, overprotective Elf. She would not abandon what had the honour, or perhaps dishonour of her protection and care.

[LurkingShadow]

She sat slumped in the chair. Lazily half laying in it. Dressed in her armour. Her expression was that of boredom. The Elf sighed deeply. Her idea with the home was groups of guests. That had never happened. She only ever had two guests. Her eyes looked over the combined kitchen and living room. It was a nice place, she liked it, but it was depressive and empty. No one ever came to visit spontaneously, well! Beyond thieves of course.

It was always “work” related when someone visited. It was lonely, depressive. She might be a lone wolf but even the wolf need companions and friends to meet at times. She tossed her coin pouch on the table with another sigh. The coffers were getting dangerously empty. But she never told people this. She kept being generous. Her ideas to help and unify non-Myon Elves looked to be nothing but a whimper in the dark. Nothing! No one!

Even when she tried to help people accused her or looked upon her like a mad woman. She probably was but there were worse people. She is dangerous some say. Dangerous? Have they seen her fight? She was getting old or something, cause good at fighting she was not. It was harsh words either way.

Glancing over the shelves. Filled with books she had gathered or gotten from others, bought, or even perhaps stolen from shelves. Behind her and to the left laid a pickaxe and some dust and dirt from Malyss roots she had harvested. She had stayed out there for days! Just hacking away at the roots when she found them.

The Elf was depressed, sad and hurt. She was lonely. She was a failure. Everything she touched withered and died. It probably was all her own fault, but she felt as if she did not always understand social ques. Along with people never understanding her. But it is easy to blame others.

Find new friends. Easier said than done. The Elf wanted a family, wanted those close-knit friends, a band of brothers as they say. The partnership and companions of the saga! The tales. That one person or group of people you know will always be there! Side by side, fighting the battles of life, in all forms. The family was gone, the friends was there, she thinks. But non became that companion of the protagonist in the sagas. She would love to be someone’s confidant. The one they listen to or tell everything. That -one- person.

She sighed once more, head leaning back in the chair, she would stare on the roof while twiddling her thumbs. Her mind contemplating her situation. She had squandered so much and then the circle spun out of control. The accusations, the cussing, the aggression.
Better not help, better avoid. Better not be around. Move, stay out of things.

What hurt the most to the Elf was those lost. Those gone. There are always new people, there is always someone else. Yes, there was but! The large dilemma. Every person is unique. There is only that one person who took her in and gave her a job when her own blood fell to nothing, scuttling away to hide in the darkness and shadows of the subterranean dump known as Andunor. Others giving her hope and a helping hand. All of them where unique and unlike any other. People sell themselves to short when they do not understand they are beyond anyone else, and anyone else is beyond them. No one is the same. But not everyone is worth awhile. But everyone is unique indeed. Even herself, but then! She pondered? Was she not even the main actor in her own play.

With a deep sigh she pushed herself out of the chair, putting some water into a cauldron, along with some herbs. Teatime. She wandered over to the window in her combined study and workshop. Gazing out at the night streets of Guldorand. Paranoid thoughts came. Could someone be out there, looking for her? Seeking to hurt her or steal something? It was odd times indeed. Ever since landing on these gods forsaken island.

There was a thought about leaving the island and not return. But not yet she thought. But she remembered then, the letter she had gotten. Her uncle! Her fathers brother. The so very old and clever man was on his death bed. She would have to travel home to Evermeet to say farewell. Not yet, but soon enough. The medicus and cleric had given the old man less than a year to live.

She will miss him, just like she would miss all those gone and never seen again. So many had wandered the streets. So many she met as aide, she spoke to and smiled towards. Guldorand had a lot of good people. Some just up and disappeared. The Steward, the sailing painter, the Dwarven carpenter, The supposedly sharran guardswoman with a nihilistic view on everything, the bardic decorator with her parrot, and many, many, more.

Those where to some degree worse than death. There was no farewell, there was just a void. The unknown, unsure thoughts of what happened. Guesswork and hope they will one day just shop up. Others was around but not about as often or even seeing her in poor regards. Those all hurt more. The broken friendships, the hurt relations, and the lost souls that she never thought would be gone. That was taken for granted. Now she regrets it all. She should have done more. She should have arranged more meetings and social events with these people. But now? Most where gone. Never to be seen again as it seemed.

A deep sigh erupted once more as she went through her home. So many things here was memories, memories of people. Gitfs, leftovers and things she had found or associate with these people. She had a bad feeling about travelling. What if the lease ran out to her home and someone, some official or property owner put it up for sale? Losing all those memories. Her thoughts were a shambled mess of “What ifs” and “I hopes”.

She went back down to the kitchen. Pouring herself a cup of tea, standing by the window once more, overlooking the street outside as a light rain poured down. Some nightly wanderers, perhaps some that been to a pub strolled past. She took another sip of the mintleaf tea and pondered; will someone remember me? And would it be for something good or hilarious? Or something grimmer? She was unsure.

Who would remember her? Was it relevant in the end? The relevant question to her was rather if she would create bonds strong enough to outlive this cursed island. Time would tell her eventually, would it not?

[chocolatelover]

How have I missed these gems??? Keep writing!

[LurkingShadow]

How have I missed these gems??? Keep writing!

Thank you! I will!

[LurkingShadow]

Glancing out the window, huge bait brewing in the cauldron. Had there been some odd changes of late. The thoughts flushed over the Elf.

Yes…yes, indeed. Her actions had come back to bite her and never did she learn. Vithing fool. The biggest trick the Chameleon ever played on you…been yourself Sil. You bloody idiot.

The Elf sighed, shaking her head. Ladle in her hand. Obviously, her attempts had been useless and she had shown her usual crazy tendencies. New times, new chances. Take it you dumb tel’quessir. Before returning to her cauldron! It was good coin in huge bait afterall! Third order in a weeks time. New faces, new chances. Get your nonsense over and done with. Have some dignity, Sil! she muttered before preparing to dry the huge bait and put it into the baitbox. Another two hundred or so to go.

[LurkingShadow]

An letter never sent.

It was a late night. Nothing but a few candles spread light in the living room of her abode. She had penned the letter over and over. Unsure how to formulate it. Unsure how to say the words she wanted to say, wanted to make known. Feelings and emotions put into words, written, or spoken was always hard.

I am sorry for what had happened, I regret it, I wish it would be different.

But it did not matter now did it? Things had turned sourer and would not be fixed. There was no solution nor an end to the chaos and disruption caused. Live with the consequences.

I wish you the best…

No, it would not do. Nothing would do. What is done is done and things would not make it better anytime soon. A wise man once told her,

Memories are really horrible. Either you miss them and want them back or you hate them or feel fear about them and want to forget them.

The old man had proclaimed! It was a blessing that he started to lose his memories, his brain starting to not work very well. This old man perhaps was right. But nostalgia and sentimentality were strong. The letter she wanted to send would never be sent anyway. There was no one to retrieve, either they were gone or not wanting to read it. She let go of the pen and sighed. It was not worth it, better to let the old be memories and aim for the future. She was a bit to good at staying in the past. Hoping for it to simply return and everything would be well. Old friends and family just returning as if nothing had happened. But that was not how it worked. The letter she considered sending was put into an envelope and she put it by a book in the shelf. She decided to not finish it and never send it.

Perhaps years later someone would find it, her children, grand children, or relatives, wondering who this want meant for. Wondering why grandma or grand-auntie never sent it to the person she written it for. That would never be known. But at the center of the letter it was written in bold letters.

Thank you, for everything, I hope your life will be great, your ever grateful Sil’avesi Daoine’Dur

[LurkingShadow]

Grief, regret, and misery. Poor choices and experiences are made through out life. Hundreds, thousands if not more. For an Elf with their decade upon decade long life, these accumulate. We learn from said mistakes, from said poor choices. But the cost at times, of such poor choices Is burning bridges over a wild river that floods the banks. On the other side stands old friends and allies. You stare upon them. They stare back. Things will never be the same again, the flood is too aggressive, too strong. The current makes it so no one can rebuild it. The foolish actions of oneself have caused the destruction of a bridge. Of allies, able to come to your castles aid as it is sieged and breached. The more burnt, the less reinforcement can arrive. To many burnt bridges and you must fight the siege and its breaches on your own.

Such situations are never optimal, ever. Poor choices, act like a tyrant trying to control others and they shall beat you back to your own castle and burn the bridge behind you, over the raging river. Surviving a siege on your own is hard, not easy and will be arduous and painful.

The Elf had built new bridges. Thankfully, she still had it in her to be a good talker, be one who knew how to act properly. The mistakes had been learnt from, the poor choices as well. She was grateful for that and would do her utter best to keep them standing over the less raging rivers. At times, she would ponder about that other bridge, glancing over it. But in most cases, they stood empty. There was no one on the other side. No one asking to rebuild it by calming the storming, flooded banks, river. It was understandable.

She learned the hard way. By stupid choices. Burning to many bridges and a harsh reality hit you. What happens when all bridges are burnt? Will the island with the castle sink?

She did not seek to find out, it would be better to cherish the memories and build new ones with the new companions and allies that would wander over the newly built bridges, over the calm and steady river.

The Sun always rises again, and should the night be long? Walk in the moons light for tomorrow comes eventually.

[LurkingShadow]

A late night in Guldorand, a light rain had erupted outside. The Sun Elf sat by her desk, in her study. Working on her alchemy and herbalism. Unlike other times, she felt a serenity, a calm. Content with the situation. A lot had been lost; a lot had been forgotten. But among the sorrows and doors closing. There had been new doors opening.

In her three years upon Arelith she felt this was one of those times that she felt at home. Guldorand was her home, she had new allies, new friends. Even some old among them. Stability. She met a lot of people, many among them where great people, some annoyed her. But all sure where unique and their own personality.

She puts down her tools in her study and workshop. Infront of her laid a doll made of wool. A gift to a friend. Things where calmer and better now, it had not been for a while. But as mentioned, new doors and new endeavors awaited. Time to look to the sunrise rather than cry for the sunsetting.

She was not Myonian, she was an Elf of Guldorand. She would die for the Republic; she would die for those around her she saw as associates and friends. One day she will return to her father’s minor house on Evermeet. But this is not the day. She picked up the doll, smiling. Then she would put it in a box and head to reverie. A new day will arrive with the sun rising, and darkness flees back to its hiding place. She stepped up the stairs, it was silent. Her friend was either not there or in deep reverie. Serenity came upon the Sun Elf. She had felt alone those months ago, but new souls shown up and made life worth living again upon the island. What has been, has been. The future comes tomorrow.

A calm heart and soul, keeps the radiant flame of the inner self burning. Such serenity will keep even the darkness of the plane of Shadows at bay.

[LurkingShadow]

Loss, Once more felt. Sorrow! Once more felt. Life is a comedy, a tragedy, a drama, and a wonderful happy event all at once. Creating your own demise, pushing people away is a horrible feeling. It is like dipping your hand into tar, then into the fire. You know who done it, YOU caused it. You are alone. But when pain is caused by someone else. You can change yourself but to fully protect your loved ones is complicated. People change, people do deeds they did not wish to do or would not have done before. You, you’re a third part to this change. You see two others hurt each other’s. You see them change, you see them leave, you see them die. Death is not always physical. Death can take the shape of change. A change of a person, in personality but even in their state of life. Mentally they been well or close to the border of unwell. Perhaps some even are so well that the first strike, struck by a challenge, by a blade of mental shape. Sharpened by someone close, someone they trusted, that blade strikes the hardest.

Causing your own pain, you know you did it. But the pain of others, of a friend, of a sister, of someone close. It hurts but it cannot be seen. The dagger piercing your skin can be seen, the dagger piercing your mind cannot. The pain and suffering of mental agony. The pain of loss. The suffering of not hearing their voice no more.

Stability is never permanent. Structure and order are always challenged. But no matter how much it hurts! Being sorrowful over someone else’s sorrow, causing them to disappear, to leave, to need to be left alone or elsewhere be a tragedy, it hurts. But you must be strong. You must be the tree that stands in the storm and can give some leverage. Even if you’re not the strongest, not the healthiest. The one who had your own issues and sorrows. But it simply means that you have the experience to understand their suffering, their pain. You can stop them from a nonphysical death. The sturdy, thick tree topples in the storm while the thin one stands.

[LurkingShadow]

From the open window, from where she sat, she could see the stars upon the skies. The twinkle of the stars seemed to look like tears, tears. As if a goddess had cried and Araleth Letheranil himself had held them frozen in space, to light the path for the travelers and those, like her, looking up towards them. Both a reassurance and a sign in those glowing orbs in the skies. A sign of even in such darkness, there is light, a twinkling tear to follow. For in darkness, the light glows the strongest.

At that thought she looked to her living room, in the last few years! Quite the amount of people had passed through it. Some even quarter breakers, but more so, many beloved guests, and fellow officials of Guldorand. The city she had come to love, to cherish, to swear her life to protect. Each one an individual, each one unique. Just like the stars upon the heaven, up there in the empty void.

One of these had become a dark star of late, corrupted? Fallen? It was hard to say but that one friend had fallen to the forces below, into their hands. It stung, it hurt. Someone you share blood and tears with upon a battlefield, someone you share laughter and stories with. Someone you comforted as their lover and children’s mother had left the island behind. A friend and an associate in the tasks that needed to be done.

A pity it is, some journeys do not end in heroics or even a martyr’s death it seems.

The night was getting old, but the revelers where still heard, The Eagle and other open places of entertainment had their number of guests, perhaps people celebrating the end of the Weatherstone events? Perhaps one of Maxines events. Another star upon the sky of Guldorands. Among other new individuals that had moved to Guldorand in the last few years, people who had become prominent or strong characters who where the spirit and soul of the city. Some had stuck around, which made her happy, Aria, Lord Hornraven, Vico and so on. Many had left, each a unique individual, each one mourned in their own way by the Elf. Many new had shown up, and each of them she would mourn in their own way when they leave, be it the island or be it this life. She leaned out a bit more, glancing towards the Elven Quarter and Myon. Some of her closest friends had lived and worked there, many among them also gone or just on shorter visits.

She leaned back inside the open window, glancing towards the stars again, her legs dangling out the window. She pondered on things, on the future of the city, the island, herself, and others. She had lost the election, she felt she had failed others and not been there when needed. But the Elf had always been stubborn and she felt those new twinkling tears upon the sky of Guldorand are all worth fighting for, be it as High Sheriff or not, this is her home and the tears shed for old times friends and associates, shall be memories that becomes beautiful stars in the skies as those below, neighbors, citizen and friends shall be embraced in the here and now.

For the Republic, stand tall and proud, Sil’avesi and do your best to not let old mistakes repeat themselves. she muttered to herself, taking one last glance upon the star filled sky before leaning back inside the room, closing the window. Her dedication and dutiful mindset towards Guldorand had never faltered even in defeat.

[LurkingShadow]

Everything I have done for this city and the Republic, my love for it is beyond anything else. Yet it took one event and now I must look over my shoulder upon the streets, I am told to not be alone and I been called an extremist.

I found a dead Elf in the port. Something crude, like a butcher’s knife had been used to kill her. Sorrow and anger flew through me. A wish for vengeance. I always found vengeance a horrible need to find peace. But it will only cause more pain and suffering. I hope those driven by madness or fear will see me and remember that I am not a foe. I am Sil, the Sun Elf who always done her best, at least in my mind, for the Republic.

I hope this cursed disease is cured and we can finally find some time to rebuild and grow stronger once more. First the flooding and now this, is there ever a stop? I will fight on, but I am not sure how much everything can take. Crisis upon crisis can shatter a strong community. I will do what I can to hold it together, they can call me what they want. As I told those adventurers, I am like a goose, water falls right off my feathers.

[LurkingShadow]

Roffin Lairmont was a friend of mine before he got captured, I was also a friend of the woman who he had children with, Melarue Goldmist. She left with the children when Roffin was the Iron lord of Castle Gloom. It hurts to see what Roffin became. I will remember the man I shared stories, drinks and helped out at times. I will remember Melarue and what she showed me in Brogdenstein.

Roffin I believe felt abandoned, felt alone and saw no solution to things but to do what he did to protect his friends and allies. He was a traitor, he did betray us all, but I feel somewhere this could been stopped. When Khardar got captured, he quickly assembled a large group of people, he sent out scouts and prepared to go below to save him, but he was left alone as people never joined him. These events pushed him to the edge.

I do not excuse it, but I see a man that was broken and fell dee, from Iron lord of his own castle to Tyrant of the Sharps. I shed tears; I mourn the loss of a man that did not die now but months ago when he got captured. The Roffin that got assassinated was not the Roffin that got captured those months ago. I mourn what was and who he been. I mourn a friend and ally.

My zeal grows to do better, to continue to work to do what I can to welcome people to Guldorand and embrace them under my own wings like a mother. Before Selaphina, the Hin with a lot of passion but a bit of a strange morale compass was slain in Guldorand, I bought Roffins shield off her. I will keep this as a token of the man he once where and of the man he became. We must be aware of our friends and neighbours quirks and oddities, we must try to not push people below but make them understand, do not falter, do not seek the false embrace of the words of the twisted below.

Speak to your neighbours, embrace friends and family, listen to your citizen, and hold the gates with stalwart hearts and souls to keep the wicked out from our homes as they seek to steal away not only our lives and ourselves but also our neighbours, dignity, and safety. Roffin went from doing what he could to save Khardar to betrayal. It is a shame that he physically died being a Tyrant of the Sharps. A shunned traitor. May the Dwarven gods have mercy upon his soul.

Remember the good, rest in peace Roffin, you died twice.
And Melarue, should you ever hear or read these words, I miss you, I hope the children are well and that they grow up to become kindhearted and strong individuals spreading joy and making this world a safer place.

[LurkingShadow]

With fury the Sun Elf wrote words driven by hatred and vengeance. To stop her from doing something unhinged and stupid. She sat by the window, at her usual writing spot this dark night under the flickering candle.

They truly believe we are weak, that they hurt the forces of good and the non-wicked. But in the light there is shadow, under the branches of a tree things lurk in this shadow that holds the tree in high regards. Those below think they are the only without morales. But you can fight fire with fire. The only thing they know below is terror and horror. All they deserve is terror and horror. The Black Archer calls for vengeance. The shadows under the branches must see to this vengeance being enacted. Make them suffer, make them feel the pain we feel above. They take an eye, we take two. They want to play with fire, we should bring them the sun plummeting into their homes.

The terror must be brought to them tenfold for each act they commit upon those above. Topple their towers, burn their granaries, turn their elderly to dust and melt down their art. Make it into weapons and slay them with their own. Only when they suffer like we do, will they understand. For they know only terror and horror, they only respect terror and horror. The largest difference is, do they care for their weak and feeble, like we do? If they do, they will learn when theirs suffer like ours suffer. But what can you expect of the wicked? Can you truly get them to understand? Or will only the way of the Black Archer be sufficient to stop this once and for all?

But it is no wonder they are jealous and maddened, they live in a slum of a trade post, built in a cavern close to collapsing in on itself.

She pushed the book away, closing it and swore that there would be vengeance for all those fallen, all those suffering and for the future victims to come. We cannot stand for this, actions must be taken.

[LurkingShadow]

In my years upon Arelith, I think I never seen it this unstable. Our foes gotten stronger, while we are splintering over things that should not do so. Pragmaticism and logical thinking should triumph. Those below keep the cinders burning and only they win when we turn upon each other. As I built myself up from Pariah to a hero of Beggers Gate, minister of culture and a scout for the Republic, I seen how others left the island, been pushed below or simply put been treated like dogs for their actions, I cannot help but feel we overreact and do not fully see what is the true treat to our island, our home. I know how it is to be on the receiving end of hatred and bigotry. Yes, I do know that my actions caused it, my own arrogance and thoughts that I knew better and had a good cause. It was foolish of me! It was wrong of me. But I have the experience and the understanding that we need to stop eventually. The strife needs to end. I will do everything within my power to mend the chasm and form stronger relations between our homes, our organizations and our individual selves.

The Outcast, The Traitor and The Wicked, all below speak of some kind of vengeance and a return to the surface like victors. Over what? Most of them never had a home here, or try to proclaim themselves suppressed and hunted, but their actions are twisted and evil. They are not hunted, but they should feel haunted from their own actions if they truly think they are the victims. Those are not the wrong doers I speak of, but some among them been pushed below over being odd and strange, pushed over the edge. That could have been saved.

We need to see the true foe, Ssaeth, Andunor, The Devils Table, the Sharps and any other group in the way of prosperity and security upon this island. But all I hear is Whispers of pacts and deeds that will not help us but doom us to a catastrophic era upon Arelith. I hear of Evermeet in whispers, rallying to go to war with Cordor over one dead Elf that fell in a Cordorian prison. The daughters of Eilistraee should be protected, but why is this the one thing to trigger an Evermeet intervention if these whispers are true? The tree burnt and Myon saw itself defeated in battle. Where was the Queen? Where is The Aelorothis, The Durothils, The Floshins from their estates and any other famous houses? Where is the outcry from Evereska? My own family, my own home, my own Queen. Where are the troops and resources to bring the vengeance the Black Archer demands?

We need to all meet somewhere, shake hands, pay the fines, use pragmatic thinking, logic thinking and common sense. We are not all alike, nor like each other’s, but we need to understand, we fall into the cinders left by some actions that should not trigger such an response, yet with the actions and words of us, the many different cities and factions of Arelith, we create a pyre from the cinders, tying ourself to it and the Traitor and the Outcast sneer and grin, skittering out from their hives in the Underground to law and shout in joyous cacophony at our own pride and contempt for each other, as they stare upon the fire we started ourselves but they keep alive but spreading rumours.

We must stand unified and pragmatic. The strife never ends, and we need to build powerful structures that makes it so that we do not punish ourselves along with those we think is worthy of punishment. To cut the rope of a rival you need to slay an enemy is stupidity, especially if you, yourself is being strangled by said enemy and the only one to save you is the rival.

I write these words, should someone perhaps ever find them, to teach those in the future to not do our mistakes and play into the self-made destructive decisions we did upon Arelith.

Remember the true foe, the wicked, the outcast and the traitor. Those who hide in the shadows and manipulate it. The opportunists who only seek to sow dissent and discord. They are not worthy of your compassion; they are the true failures of society and the pure outcasts that has no redemption in their heart. Corrupted souls in need to be purified and sent to the lower planes.

[LurkingShadow]

A new dawn comes, and we have a new High Sheriff in Guldorand. A change from the old guard to the new? Possibly. But this morning to me came a visitor, a friend most dear. I wish I would have said things I didn’t, I wish I would have not done things I did. What would my life had been had I not done some of those things I did? Driven by hatred and paranoia? I am in a much better place now than then, but I regret my actions I must live with them.

I gaze upon the gift I was given, and I smile. A memento that will last forever and this friend I will meet again, when I, myself decide to leave this island, if it comes to it. If not that then a visit when I need some vacation. Perhaps I end up dead also, by the enemy. Who truly knows how it will end and what destiny the Seldarine consider giving me. It is pretentious but right now I see myself like an older sister, I do what I can protect my siblings, those that are my neighbours and friends in Guldorand. But as I sit here and write these words, I understand how it sounds.

I been here for over a half decade now, in the larger prospect of an Sun Elven life it is nothing, but not many stay for this long upon Arelith. Either they die, fade away into the unknown or simply just leave. I wish I could have saved more lives, from death, leaving or falling to those below. I wish my own blood could been saved. I was not here, and they fell. Could I have done a difference?

Now I want to help others, who like me where close to becoming the worse version, I did to some degree, I confess to that. But I worked myself out of it, I work myself towards doing better for myself and my beloved Republic of Guldorand. I failed many but I aim to work for it, to not fail again by my own volition. I will aim to help the outcast or those who can be saved, this I been working on for months by now. Give them a hand and a kind word. Many can be saved from those below. Hearing old associates and friends who gotten into trouble themselves, proclaim they now understand me, gives me an understanding of their situation and how I can help them. I know how it is, and I can help them do better or to see to the future.

A new dawn comes indeed and I hope when dusk comes once more that things shines ever bright.